Lost and Found
by Smokey Joe
Summary: American Idol: Kris/Adam: What were the odds that you'd find him when you went to say goodbye?


A/N: This is what I wrote for the Kradam BigBang challenge over on LJ. There was some difficulty in reading it there so I've posted it here as well. Hope you enjoy :)

* * *

**Part One: John**

_The dream starts the same every time. John is standing in the kitchen of the house he lives in now on O'Connell Lane, sometimes washing dishes, sometimes reading the newspaper. This time he's cooking. Eggs he thinks, something that involves the skillet and a spatula. He's facing the backyard, but it isn't the backyard he's familiar with. Instead of seeing the familiar wooden deck and tall pines there's a kidney shaped pool with a waterfall and a cabana to the left of the pool. It reminds him of a scene from the commercials he sees on TV all the time for cruise lines, but he knows this pool. He knows that the water will be between seventy five and eighty degrees, and he knows that the pool is lined with tiles, starting at the waterline, and he knows that late at night they cool with the night air and make him shiver when someone presses his back against them. As usual he doesn't know who that someone is, but he knows that he loves them more than anything and that he feels safe with them. As he's dishing the eggs out onto two plates, arms snake around his waist from behind as lips press against the side of his throat. John sighs as he leans back into the embrace._

_ "Why didn't you wake me?" The voice, a man's, asks as he nuzzles into the side of John's neck. John smiles and turns in the embrace. This dream is no different from the others, he can't see the face of this man, he's pretty sure it's his husband, but he can make out his eyes. They're electric blue, rimmed in black liner, with a few strands of dark black hair, streaked with blue, falling across his left eye. Sometimes when John has this dream the man's hair is strawberry blonde and there's no makeup, but those dreams are few and far between and always leave John feeling as though he's been looking at a still frame of the man instead of the living, breathing man. John rises up onto his tiptoes to press a kiss to the warm mouth._

_ "I thought about it, but you just look so sweet when you're asleep I couldn't help myself. Not to mention I got a call from your very worried assistant before you got home last night. She told me you haven't slept more than three hours the last few nights of the tour. Something you want to talk about?"_

_ "Just couldn't sleep without you." The man replies as he gives John a special, secret smile. John knows this is his smile, he's the only one who ever gets to see it._

John woke, dark blue sheets pooled around his waist, exposing his scarred chest. He'd been having the same dream, or some variation thereof, since he'd gotten out of the hospital, nearly five and a half months earlier. John sighed heavily and pushed himself up to a sitting position slowly. His ribs were always a little stiff in the morning, the original breaks had long since healed, but the memory of the pain was ever present, especially in the mornings. Fighting through the worst of it, John stood and began his morning stretches. The physical therapist from the outpatient treatment center he'd been going to for the past five and a half months had warned him about the dangers of lapsing in his stretches. Warnings of muscle deterioration and permanent stiffness have kept him diligent and recently he'd begun to notice that his morning stiffness resolved itself more quickly than it used to. John sighed heavily as he started the stretches for his leg. While his physical health may have been getting better there was still no progress on his memory.

There has to be a movie about this, John thought. It probably airs once every few weeks on Lifetime. Nearly six months ago he'd woken up in the ICU of Mercy Hospital of Nevada. He'd been beaten and stabbed. His left leg had been broken, several ribs had been broken, and one of his vertebrae had been chipped. The stab wound on his right side was the worst. The police had believed it to be aimed at his kidneys, a stab and twist of the knife and he'd be dead in minutes, but he'd somehow fought them off so that he was left with a gaping side wound instead. The doctors couldn't say for sure what had triggered his memory loss. He had sustained a severe concussion during the beating, some well placed kicks to the head most likely, but there wasn't any lasting brain damage. His doctors at Mercy as well as at the rehab clinic, and now at his outpatient therapy center had all given him what amounted to shrugged shoulders. Maybe he'd remember everything, maybe he wouldn't. Maybe he'd spend his whole life as a John Doe and maybe he wouldn't. There was no way to say for certain.

His nurse from the ICU, Katy O'Connell, had taken pity on him. Once he'd been released from the hospital John had still been greatly limited in his mobility. Combined with his complete lack of identity, Katy and her parents, Peggy and Peter, had taken him in. They lived near Ruby Lake, Nevada. A small town high in the mountains with a general store, which they owned, one diner, and small public library that had mostly old Steven King novels. John figured if he was going to wake up with no memory, doing it in Pleasantville wasn't so bad. The O'Connell family had taken him in and treated him as if he was their own son. Once he'd gotten a little better, John had started to work at O'Connell's General Store, the same store that had been in Peter's family since the Gold Rush in the 1800's. So, he'd taken up residence in the spare room on the third floor of their sprawling farmhouse. His days were spent going to rehab, working at O'Connell's, and helping out with the daily chores that always seemed to pop up, especially as fall started to melt into winter.

"John, you decent?" Katy called as she knocked on the door of his bedroom. Without waiting for a response she pushed the door open, giving him a bright smile. John laughed as he grabbed the long sleeved shirt he'd thrown over the back of his desk chair the night before.

"And what if I'd been naked?" Katy smiled mischievously at him. "Right, I don't want an answer to that question."

"I was your nurse, Johnny. Believe me when I tell you I've seen everything there is to see." John threw back his head and laughed, grabbing his jeans and belt as she flopped back onto the unmade bed. "Can you give me a ride into town later?"

"Yeah, I have an appointment with Josie at noon." Katy nodded, recognizing the name of John's therapist. When she didn't immediately leave after getting her answer, John turned to see what was keeping her. Katy's fair hair was pulled away from her face, her usual look when getting ready for work, but in place of her purple scrubs she was wearing a flannel shirt, jeans, and white socks. She was looking out of the window closest to her, the view overlooking the long driveway, the main road at least two hundred yards away. John knew that look.

"Whatever it is you want to ask, K, just ask it." He said gently. Katy turned towards him, angling her whole body to face his as she took his hand.

"I wanted to ask you about the dreams you've been having but I don't want you to think that I'm prying." John laughed and pulled her into a hug.

"I'm still having the dreams. I really think they have something to do with my past, I just don't know what. I know that he's real, the dream guy, I just don't know how to find him."

Katy frowned again, but before John could ask what was wrong blurted out, "I'm really scared that the guy you've been dreaming about is the one who hurt you and I'm scared that you're getting your hopes up." John sighed heavily as he stood up and paced between the edge of the doorway and the bed.

"I've thought about it," he confessed. "I know this isn't a good enough answer and that people who claim to love each other can still do horrible things to each other, but I don't think this guy is like that. I feel really, really safe with him when I'm in the dream. It's like I don't want to wake up because waking up means he won't be here and that feeling will be gone. I don't think he's the one who did this." He could tell Katy wasn't completely satisfied with the answer he'd given her, but whatever fear had been preying upon her had, for the moment at least, been alleviated.

**Part Two: Adam**

Dr. Siri Sands wasn't what Adam had been expecting when Leila had told him she had a doctor friend she though could help him. He wasn't expecting a mystic, but he certainly hadn't been expecting the very bland looking therapist sitting across from him. She was petite in the extreme, no more than five foot, with dark hair that she kept short in a pixie cut. The first thing Adam had noticed about her was that she had a pair of glasses to match every outfit she wore. She had black frames, pink, clear, blue, and purple that he'd noticed so far. They were all similar in style and she used her index finger to push them up her nose, the action the same no matter the pair. She had a corner office where the blinds were always pulled, the lights kept dim. He hadn't really expected the clichéd couch, but the plush leather chairs situated in the corner of the room reminded him of the den at home. Kris had loved that room.

"So, Adam, how's today going?" She asked the same question, in the same way, at every visit, asking him only about the twenty four hours he was living at a time. He both appreciated and resented that.

He didn't know how today was going. Were _any_ of his days good? Today marked the six month that Adam had lived without Kris waking up next to him in the morning. Six months since he'd last woken up to Kris sprawled all over him in the morning, since Kris had made him breakfast, since he'd seen Kris's smile.

"Dylan Thomas's trial date was set yesterday, wasn't it?" Dr. Sands, Siri as she preferred her patients to call her, asked when it seemed to her that Adam wasn't going to answer her first question. Adam nodded. The D.A. had called him yesterday to update him. Adam had spent half an hour on the bathroom throwing up what felt like everything he'd eaten in the past six months.

"How do you feel about that?"

Adam considered the question. "He still hasn't said where Kris is."

"What if he never tells you where Kris's body is?"

"You're phrasing it that way to make a point, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am." She leaned forward then, elbows resting on her knees. "Adam, the odds of Kris being alive are less than twenty percent. Do you understand that?"

Adam rolled his eyes in frustration. "I'm not delusional, Siri. I know that all logic and reason says he's gone, but I just can't accept that. I believe he's alive. I'd know if he wasn't."

Siri nodded as she set aside her notepad and pen and leaned forward. It was her "this is serious" pose and Adam knew whatever she was about to ask was going to be something he didn't want to answer.

"How would you know, Adam?"

"I'd feel it." Adam held firm in his belief. He knew it didn't sound rational, but he loved Kris and believed, really and truly believed, that Kris was his soul mate. If Kris was really gone some part of Adam would know it. Siri's eyes hardened behind her glasses and Adam knew that somehow he'd just set himself up for a question he wasn't going to like answering.

"Then where is he, Adam? If he loves you as much as you say he loves you and he's alive out there, why hasn't he come home or called you?"

Adam made sure to slam the door on his way out.

The truth was, Adam didn't know why Kris wouldn't contact him. At night when sleep was far off, Adam tried to come up with reasons why Kris wouldn't call, wouldn't let Adam know he was okay. He had to know that Adam would worry about him, he had to know how it would slowly kill Adam to not know where Kris was or if he was okay. Adam, by the second month Kris had been missing, had run through every possible scenario. Maybe Kris was in a coma, maybe he thought it was better if he stayed missing to keep Adam safe, or maybe he just didn't want Adam anymore. He'd come up with plausible explanations and he'd come up with ideas that had made Leila smile sadly before telling him he watched too many movies. Adam refused to give up hope that Kris was alive, but he was starting to think that he needed to give up the belief that Kris was just going to magically walk through the door and come home to him. He would never give up hope, but he couldn't keep living like this. So, at three o'clock in the morning on a Tuesday Adam started packing. If he was going to accept that he would have to spend the rest of his life without Kris, then he was going to say goodbye properly. By six he had a flight and rental car booked, a bag packed, and a vague plan that would take him to where the kidnapper had claimed to have left Kris's body. It wasn't ideal, but it was all Adam had.

"Hello?" His mother's groggy voice said when he called her.

"Hi, Mom."

"Adam? What's wrong sweetheart? It's six o'clock in the morning." He could hear shuffling in the background and in his minds eye he could see her pushing herself up in bed, the telltale click of her bedside lamp coming a second later.

Adam was silent for a moment, unsure of how to explain the thought process that had consumed him for the past several hours. "He isn't coming back."

Leila sighed heavily. "I know sweetie, I know. He-"

"No," Adam interrupted. "I still believe he's alive out there, but he isn't coming back. I don't know why, but he isn't. I'm leaving in a few hours to go to Nevada." He heard Leila suck in a quick breath. "Adam, why?"

"I need to say goodbye."

* * *

**Part Three: Adam**

Dylan Thomas hadn't given a specific location for where he'd left Kris's body, though seeing the Nevada terrain Adam wasn't sure that he would have been able to find a specific location. Ruby, Nevada was set deep in the woods. The sign when he'd entered claimed only a thousand residents, but Adam had seen no sign of any of them since leaving the interstate for the two lane highway that led in and out of Ruby. The detective who had worked Kris's case from the beginning had always been open to sharing information with Adam, provided it wouldn't risk the integrity of the investigation, and he had been the one to tell Adam about the general location. Adam guided the rented SUV to the side of the road before killing the engine. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting to feel but this overwhelming emptiness wasn't it. Part of Adam had truly believed that being here now, standing where Kris had stood, looking out over the scenery that Kris had seen would make him feel more at ease but in truth it only made him feel worse. Adam's mind was occupied with what Kris would have been thinking. Was he scared? Had he wished that Adam had been with him? Had he even been conscious?

Adam took a deep breath and opened the door, letting the cool spring air wash over him. _It's nice here_, he thought absently, trying to keep his volatile emotions in check. If he were to have a choice in an eternal resting place he supposed this was something he'd choose. There was no sound, save for the gentle _shh _sound the trees made as the breeze made as it swept through the trees. It almost sounded as if nature itself were trying to calm Adam, to ease his troubled heart. He leaned back against the car, unsure of what to do now that he was here. He hadn't really thought much past this particular point. He had a few of Kris's belongings in the bag he'd packed in the backseat, but they were things he couldn't bear to part with. Adam took another deep breath and slid down the side of the SUV to the ground, ignoring the chill that sent a shiver up his spine, a reminder that winter was only just beginning to end.

"I guess I thought coming out here would make it easier," he began, staring out into the endless Nevada woods. "I thought it would make it easier to say goodbye to you, but it doesn't. It still sucks, Kris. It really sucks." Leaning his head back against the SUV he looked to the sky, the light blue dotted by fluffy white clouds too perfect for such a miserable point in Adam's life.

"I don't know where you are, Kris, or if you're still alive. I believe you are, but I also believe that I need to move on. Maybe you'll come back to me someday, maybe you won't, but I can't keep waiting for you to walk back through the door. You're gone," Adam choked out. He kept his head against the SUV, wishing like hell that Kris was there with him, the pain of Kris's loss so much more acute today. Though Adam knew he needed to let Kris go, it was easier said than done.

"I need to move on, Kris, and if I'm going to do that I need to leave you here. It's time for me to let you go."

* * *

**Part Four: John**

"I just don't understand why you won't keep anything other than the Beatles in the car." Katy complained as she flicked through the albums John kept in the glove compartment. John laughed heartily as he leaned over in his seat to sing a line from "Hey Jude" obnoxiously loudly into Katy's ear. She laughed in response before reprimanding him that he should keep his eyes focused on the road. John refocused his attention, continuing to hum along with the tune, unaware that Katy was studying him.

"You seem really happy," she commented offhandedly, leaning back into her seat.

"Docs say that I'm just about done with PT. I don't know, Katy. I feel really good, like really healthy." John offered, sounding almost surprised, as if that wasn't what he'd been thinking but what had fallen out.

"How's the mobility in your hand, still stiff?" She asked, slipping into her "Nurse Ratchet" voice, as John liked to call it. John rolled his eyes and threw her an exasperated look that made her laugh. "Okay, I get it. I'm not your doctor and you're doing fine."

John smiled through her tirade. "Yes, the mobility in my hand is good. Full flexibility and strength is up to eighty five percent. They're optimistic that I'll be back to one hundred percent soon." John subconsciously flexed the fingers of his left hand as he explained the prognosis. When he'd woken in the hospital the damage done to his hands, likely caused by his fingers repeatedly being crushed beneath the heel of a boot, was secondary to the other, more traumatic internal injuries. The damage to his hands, however, was taking much longer to heal, the bones having started to heal prior to being set. The surgery to reset the bones had been extensive and had resulted in months of physical therapy to regain the full range of motion that his hand, particularly his fingers, had been capable of before his attack. His physical therapist, having studied his hands on more than one occasion, had been asking him lately about whether or not he'd attempted to draw anything. She seemed to think, based on his fingers, that he'd been an artist in his previous life. John wasn't so certain, but he supposed that he couldn't rule anything out.

"Hey," Katy said, drawing his attention back to the road. "Think he broke down?" John studied the SUV pulled off to the side of the road. The driver didn't look like anyone from town, but then with spring right around the corner, John suspected more and more unfamiliar faces would start showing up, especially near the campgrounds. The man sitting, defeated, against the side of the car had captured John's attention more so than concern for the driver's vehicle. He was definitely out of place with his leather jacket and dark, skin tight jeans. His black boots were about the only thing on him that wasn't horribly put of place in rural Nevada.

Mind still occupied with cataloguing every inch of the stranded driver, John heard himself respond to Katy, "Yeah, we should stop and see if he needs any help." Closer now, John could take in more details. The man was obviously tall, he would likely tower of John and Katy, with dark hair that was dyed black as ink and perfectly coiffed. John couldn't help but notice that the man looked completely defeated, more than what a flat tire or engine trouble would merit. There was definitely more to this man than what first appearances offered. John eased his truck in behind the SUV and took his time turning off the engine as well as the lights and radio.

"Maybe this wasn't such a good idea," Katy offered uncertainly, now able to catalogue the man's full appearance. She had never been wary of strangers, but now knowing that there was someone out there who had done such horrible things to John, and knowing that neither of them would recognize the responsible party, Katy found herself more aware of people she didn't know. John just smiled his same open smile and ruffled her hair, something he knew she hated. "It'll be fine, Katy. Guy's engine probably overheated or something."

John let himself out and made his way towards the seated man calling out as he got closer, "Hey, man, everything alright?" He didn't miss the way the man whipped around to look at him, eyes widening as he raked his eyes over John's body. Behind him, John heard his passenger door open and the crunch of gravel under Katy's light footsteps.

The man slowly pushed himself to his feet, mumbling under his breath, though John thought he caught the word impossible in the jumble of words. John had slowed his pace somewhat at the erratic behavior of the man, coming to a complete halt once the man was fully erect. John hadn't been wrong about his height. The man was well over six foot, broader across the chest than he's appeared while sitting, thought John could concede that the metal studs on his leather jacket added some amount of broadness to his chest that was merely an illusion. It was his eyes that really caught John by surprise. They were the exact same as the dream, and when he pushed his dark hair out of his eyes just so it was almost like being back in his dream.

* * *

**Part Five: Adam**

Adam hadn't really paid much mind to the truck coming to a stop a yard or so away from his own SUV. He'd said what he needed to say to Kris and just wanted a minute to be a peace, to really let go of everything he'd lost when Kris had been taken. When he heard the twin creaks of doors opening he'd turned to give the truck a second glance. Adam could hardly believe his eyes**. **Kris was standing no more than fifteen feet from him looking at Adam as if he knew him from somewhere but just couldn't make the connection in his mind. He was alive and healthy and _right fucking there._ It wasn't possible, everyone had told him he wasn't ever going to see Kris again and he most definitely wasn't ever going to see him _alive_, but there he was.

"_Kris?_" Adam called out, not sure what to think. Adam was fairly certain he hadn't reached the point where he had started to hallucinate Kris, but he couldn't really be sure anymore. The man stopped and gave Adam a long stare, as if he thought he should know Adam though he clearly didn't.

"Are you okay?" Kris asked. Adam pushed himself to his feet and made his way towards Kris, wanting nothing more than to reach out and rub his hands over Kris's considerably shorter hair. Adam stared at Kris incredulously. Was he _okay?_

"Where have you _been, _Kristopher?" Adam caught the look Kris's blonde, _female_, companion threw his way at the question and the way that she moved closer to Kris, as though she would offer any real opposition to Adam.

The woman put a hand on Kris's arm then, as if reminding him of something, before turning to Adam. "Do you know John?"

"John? His name is Kristopher Allen. What the hell is this about John?" Adam could feel pressure building behind his eyes, a slow burning headache that would shortly render him unable to interact with anyone, paired with the sinking feeling that his life was about to more closely resemble a Lifetime movie and it had Adam wishing someone else had come on this trip with him.

Kris leaned forward, seeming eager for information. "So, you know me? Are we close?" His companion seemed annoyed by the questions, particularly the easy way Kris asked them and reached out a restraining hand again, shaking Kris a little to get him to focus.

"John, we can't be sure that he-" Kris cut her off with a hand over the one she'd rested on his arm.

Adam looked back and forth between the two, more confused than ever. "What the hell is going on here Kris? Who is she and why does she keep calling you John?"

"Maybe we should take this somewhere else. There's a lot we need to talk about."

* * *

**Part Six: John**

The Ruby police station looked like a small house with a larger attached garage, or so John had always thought. He had been to the building at least once a month since his arrival in Ruby, in the beginning to check in with the Sheriff after he'd been released from the hospital and then later to see if any progress had been made. John liked Sheriff Stephen Dodson, he liked his easy reassuring manner and he liked the way the man treated him. He didn't treat Kris like a victim, which he appreciated, and he didn't try to sugar coat the things that weren't so pleasant, especially when it came to the few interviews the Sheriff had conducted, presenting Kris with some possible scenarios to see if they jogged anything in his memory. In the six months that he'd been in Ruby there had been no breaks in John's case, no leads, and no reason to believe that John hadn't just fallen out of the sky. John had always believed that if there were to be a break in the case it would come from Stephen, to be the one leading Adam, a bigger break than John could have hoped for, to the Sheriff's station seemed surreal.

John wasn't really sure what the procedure was for stumbling across someone who knew who you were was, but he hadn't expected Adam, who had been sticking so close to John as to almost be considered underfoot, to be ushered without much explanation into an interrogation room while John and Katy were led to one of the conference rooms. John sighed heavily in frustration. He'd been prowling the room for the better part of forty minutes, once the appeal of his own magazine had worn off almost an hour ago, with no sign of the Sheriff, deputy, or anyone else for that matter. He wanted to help Adam but wasn't sure who to call or what to do. Katy, ever the calm one, was sitting at the long rectangular table flicking through a magazine.

"What is taking so long?" Katy sighed at John's tone but didn't take her eyes off the page she was reading, certain that John would get it all out of his system when he was ready. "What could they possibly be asking him that it would be taking this long?"

Katy calmly flicked to another page as she answered. "John, try to relaz. How long did it take for Stephen to explain everything about your case to you the first time you sat down and talked about it? And that was without anyone questioning you as though you were a suspect."

"Suspect? Why would they think that Adam is a suspect?"

Katy looked up at John in surprise. "You really are too trusting, John. A man shows up out of the blue saying that he knows you, parked on the road where I found you half dead and you're not the least bit suspicious?"

"He's the one from the dreams, Katy, I'm sure of it."

"John," she pinched the bridge of her nose, a sure sign she was getting a headache, and sighed. "They're just dreams. They could be a memory of a movie, a postcard, a story someone in your previous life told you, or a book you read. You can't be certain that this man wasn't involved in what happened to you."

John raked his hands through his hair, frustration making him antsy. "But I know how I felt when I saw him, when he called me Kris. I felt the same way I felt in that dream. Are you going to tell me that isn't real?"

"No, John, I'm not going to tell you that's not real, but I'm not going to tell you it's the sign to go by either. Wanting to check someone out and wanting to be certain that this guy is who he says he is isn't a bad thing, John." Katy said it gently but the reprimand was still there. John huffed out another sigh and collapsed into the seat across from Katy.

"I just want to talk to him. If he has any information about who I am I need to know Katy." She reached across and placed a hand over his. "I know, John, and we will do whatever we can to find out who you are, but whoever did this to you wanted you dead, I was the one who found you and I know we've never really talked about it but they almost accomplished that goal. So, a little caution with strangers is the smart approach." He knew she was right but it didn't change the excitement thrumming through his veins.

It hadn't bothered John to not know where he was from, if he had a family waiting for him somewhere, or if he was orphaned. It bothered him, but in the way that there was tick at the back of his mind, no different than when he knew he was forgetting something but he couldn't think of what it was. It had bothered him more to not know what kind of man he'd been before. Katy had reminded him several times that all of this could be something good- how many people got a truly fresh start. She frequently told him that it didn't matter who he was _then _but who he chose to be _now_, but she just didn't understand. It was something that preyed on John every day. When he saw a father and daughter at the grocery store he wondered if he had children and if he was the kind of father who would take his kids for ice cream in the summer, if he would give them pony rides on the living room floor, if he would kiss their cuts and scrapes better. When he saw a couple together he wondered if he was an attentive partner, if he gave kisses freely or demanded something in return, if he would lay in bed in Sunday mornings tracing patterns into his partner's skin.

He could guess at some of the answers. He liked kids, at least the ones who had a tendency to talk to him without warning when he was at the store, and he felt protective and nurturing towards Katy, as if she were his own little sister, so he figured that was probably a vote in his favor towards being a good father. Relationships, on the other hand, he could only guess at. John liked to believe that his dream was really a memory, or at least an amalgamation of memories, and that it proved he was a loving partner, but he guessed that time would have to tell as far as that aspect of his life was concerned. More than anything, though, John just wanted to know who he was, to know more about the man he had been, when his birthday was, how old he was even. The little things that he had probably taken for granted when he knew the answers to them.

"John, Katy," Sheriff Stephen Dodson greeted, entering the room with his usual quiet tread. Katy stood and gave Stephen a quick, tight hug and a light kiss on the cheek while John gave him an equally quick handshake. Stephen motioned for them to take a seat before moving to the head of the table, dropping a stack of file folders to the table in the process.

"John, what can you tell me about Adam Lambert?" Stephen asked.

John shrugged. "I just met him today. Katy and I were driving home. I saw his car pulled off to the side of the road and figured his car had broken down. When I asked if he was okay he started acting like he was seeing a ghost. Can I talk to him, Steve?" Katy rolled her eyes. John really was too damn trusting.

"Was he involved in what happened to Kris at all?" She pushed. If John wasn't going to look after himself she would.

Stephen shook his head. "No. His prints don't match any in the files. He says that you two were involved in a romantic relationship when you were kidnapped. According to Mr. Lambert you two live together in Los Angeles. Any of that sound familiar to you? Jog anything in your memory?"

"Maybe," John answered vaguely as his called to mind the memory of his recurring dream. "I keep dreaming about someone who looks like Adam." Stephen leaned back in his chair, closing the file folder that contained the notes he'd taken during his interview with Lambert.

"For what it's worth, I think he's telling the truth, John. We'll run DNA tests against things he has at his home that he claims are yours to be certain, but I think that will just confirm what he's saying." John waited, sensing that there was more Stephen wanted to say. "Now, I can get him up here if you want to talk to him or you can leave here right now and figure out what you want to do after that. The ball's in your court."

"I want to talk to him." John didn't hesitate. If Adam had answers, if Adam could help him feel that easy safety he felt in his dream, then John wanted to talk to him. "Katy, can you call your parents, let them know what's going on?" Katy sighed heavily. He knew she wanted to stay close by, make sure that Adam didn't pull one over on John, but he was a big boy. He could take care of himself and Stephen had vetted Adam. He wanted Adam to be able to tell him anything, something he thought would go a little more smoothly with Katy otherwise occupied. As much as he loved her she was sometimes overbearing in her tendency to mother hen John.

Standing, Katy placed her hand over John's on the table. "If you need me, I'll be just down the hall. I'll give you some time." She and Stephen left together while John waited at the conference table with a heart full of hope.

* * *

**Part Seven: Adam**

Adam leaned back in his chair, trying not to crawl out of his skin. The Sheriff had left the room ten minutes or more ago telling Adam not to go anywhere. He pulled his phone from his pocket to check his messages, anything to get his attention off the clock in the corner of the room and the door that remained closed. As soon as he'd gotten in the car he'd called Leila who had promised to be on the next flight out. He had two text messages from her giving him her flight details. They had both come while he'd been talking to Sheriff Dodson. Leila promised that she'd be there as soon as possible, but Adam knew how long it had taken him to get there, so he was prepared to be waiting for quite some time. Though everyone in Ruby he'd met so far, including Sheriff Dodson, had been kind and welcoming to Adam, he still felt distinctly like an outsider. Everyone here knew Kris, loved Kris, wanted to protect Kris. They were all on Kris's side. Adam was alone here, completely on his own in an alien world. It was disconcerting and surprisingly lonely.

The squeak of the door was the limited warning Adam got before the door opened and Sheriff Dodson returned, files missing.

"Adam, John would like to talk to you. He's upstairs in Conference Room B. Let's go, son." Adam didn't need to be asked twice. He wasn't sure that Kris would want to see him, he was just some man who'd come stumbling into Kris's life in Ruby, one that he seemed to be thriving in without Adam, a fact that Adam couldn't deny hurt. He followed closely behind the Sheriff and tried to come up with something to say. He'd had thought it would be easier, given all the times in the past six months that he wished Kris was there to talk to, all the times he'd call Kris to help him in the kitchen or to pass him something, now Kris was just a few feet away from him and Adam couldn't come up with a single thing to say to him.

"Right through here," was all the direction Sheriff Dodson gave him and then Adam was on his own.

* * *

**Part Eight: John and Adam**

Adam let himself into the room and was surprised to find that Kris's female companion was nowhere to be found. Kris had been sitting behind the table, head in his hands, but jumped to his feet when he heard the door open. Adam tried to smile but found the expression just outside his reach.

"Hey," Kris opened shyly. He'd had so many questions before, all of them spinning through his head so quickly that he wasn't sure they wouldn't all fall out of his mouth in a rush at the same time, but now he couldn't seem to force the words through his lips.

"Hey," Adam returned, suddenly just as shy, an experience he hadn't had since high school. Adam looked Kris over, not trying to disguise the inspection in any way. "You look good. Sheriff Dodson said that you were pretty beat up when he first met you."

Kris nodded at the question disguised as a statement. "Yeah, whoever took me roughed me up pretty good. I had a lot of breaks, some internal bleeding, and my memory problems. Docs think the head wound is to blame for that. They told me I might get some of it back or none of it. I'm pretty optimistic about it, though."

"Because you're remembering things?" Adam couldn't help the note of hope in his voice. Though he was eternally grateful that he had Kris back this wasn't _his _Kris. This was some alien person that Adam didn't know. He looked like Kris and sounded like Kris and moved like Kris, but he didn't look at Adam the way Kris used to, and he didn't carry himself quite the way that he had before he'd gone missing.

"I don't really remember much. Do I live somewhere that overlooks a big back yard with pine trees and a pool?" Kris asked, the redness in his cheeks evidence with his acknowledgement that the question was a little random. Adam shook his head and watched Kris's face fall.

"We live together in L.A. and we have a pool, but there are no pine trees. There's, like, ferns or something. We hired someone to plant all the stuff, I wouldn't know most of it from weeds."

"So, we've been together for a long time then."

Adam smiled fondly, thinking of his first meeting with Kris. "Yeah. You're a musician, a really talented musician. You worked on a record with me. We were talking about getting you your own deal; you'd met with your agent right before you disappeared and seemed really excited to start working on your own stuff. We'd been living together for about a year and a half and had been dating for almost a year before that."

Kris considered what Adam was telling him, trying to line the information up with the snippets of his life that he'd dreamed of. What he'd though of as the memory of the house was disappointing, but he'd clearly been right about the relationship with Adam. He hadn't imagined that, and he did feel good with Adam nearby, safer.

"What happened to me? Do you know?"

"Yeah, I was there," Adam sucked in a deep breath, letting it whistle out through his teeth when Kris covered his hand with one of his own.

"Hey," he soothed. "We can talk about this some other time."

"No, no, it's okay. It's your life, you deserve to know." Adam leaned back in his chair, turning his hand palm up so that he could lace his fingers through Kris's. "It was right after Christmas. I was just getting back into the studio, working crazy hours, and you were out with some of the guys you play with. You did a show in the Valley, you called me when you knew I'd be busy to leave a voicemail while you played since I couldn't be there. . . "

_ Adam pushed himself up off the couch tiredly. He'd heard the gate opening and made his way to the door, wanting to meet Kris there to give him a kiss and tell him how great he'd sounded. As he threw the door open he saw the taillights of Cale's van disappear back on to the street. Kris turned, smiling when he caught sight of Adam, beautifully backlit by the light from the entryway. After, Adam tried to remember if he saw anyone, anything, but he couldn't. One moment Kris was smiling, lifting his hand to give a wave, or maybe to blow Adam an exaggerated kiss, and the next he was being pulled backwards, into a dark van with out of state plates, rag over his mouth like in some B movie. It was too surreal, Adam was sure he was dreaming, but the look of fear in Kris's eyes was too real, the twisting knot in Adam's gut too sure. The next instant Kris was gone and Adam was left chasing taillights._

Kris soaked up every word of the story, trying to remember even the smallest details- the smell of his kidnapper, the taste of the drug in his mouth, anything at all connected to that night. He couldn't come up with anything, but something felt off about the story, something wasn't sitting perfectly with Kris.

"So, I've been missing for six months?" Kris didn't miss the way Adam frowned when Kris said this.

"Yes, but your case, officially, is closed. Your kidnapper, Dylan Thomas, was caught just after he-" Adam couldn't bring himself to say it.

"After he ditched me-"

"Yeah," Adam quickly recovered. "After he ditched you he was picked up for running a red light. The partial that I got on his plates the night you were taken was flagged and they brought him back to L.A. to stand trial. You should have been found right away but Sheriff Dodson said something went wrong with the paperwork- when you were treated in another state?"

Kris nodded, thinking of his time in the ICU, a memory that was blurry, like looking at something through water. "The closest trauma center is a state away. The police there did most of the paperwork on the initial crime. Steve told me that most of the information was added to my file here, since this is where I was found, I guess the information on the car never made it back across state lines." Adam scoffed. A fucking paperwork error had left him believing for the past six months that Kris was dead. Who knew how that time had affected the recovery of Kris's memories negatively.

"I guess that something we can take up with the D.A. when we get back to L.A." Adam felt his heart sink when Kris flinched at the mention of L.A.

"Adam, I can't just up and leave Nevada today. I have responsibilities here, family." Kris explained, thinking of the store and the O'Connell family.

"You have a family in L.A., Kris. Your mom and dad were devastated when you went missing. Your brother took the semester off school. Cale won't stay out past dark if he can avoid it. God, my mother moved in for a month right after, as much for her as for me."

Kris felt an unpleasant twinge at the name 'Kris.' He knew it was his, had heard himself referred to as Kris all morning, but it was suddenly so much more real. He had a family, actual people who cared about him and knew all about him, people who would look at him with the same sad eyes that Adam kept using. When he left Nevada he would just be poor, pathetic Kris who almost died and couldn't remember this great life he'd been leading before that. He wouldn't be John who worked at the O'Connell's store. He wouldn't be the only one strong enough to carry the bulky camping equipment to a customer's car, or the only one who could make sense of Jimmy, the back room guy at O'Connell's, notes about orders. His existence would no longer be defined by who he was, but by who he'd been and what had been done to him. It was overwhelming and terrifying, and suddenly Kris just couldn't deal. The walls were closing in on him and he was certain he was about to experience a panic attack.

"I need some air, I just, I need to get out of here for a minute," Kris mumbled, pushing himself back from the table quickly. The room was spinning and he couldn't catch his breath. He knew what a panic attack felt like, he'd had them just after he woke up and two months of therapy and heavy drugs found him getting better control of his emotional state, but Kris was certain that he'd never forget that feeling so long as he lived. He needed to get out, to get some air and call up all the techniques the therapist had taught him to maintain his calm.

"Kris?" Adam asked uncertainly. He didn't know what was happening, for the first time Adam couldn't read Kris's expression. He didn't have a clue what Kris was thinking, but he knew things were going badly. If Kris walked out that door would Adam see him ever again? He reached a hand out to stop Kris, panic squeezing his heart. Kris flinched away from Adam, using his smaller size and quickness to dart around Adam and make a break for the conference room door.

"Kris!" Adam called after, left behind to wonder and worry.

* * *

**Part Nine: John/Kris**

Kris made it down the stairs and out the door without attracting too much attention. The small station was humming with activity, the clicking of keyboards, the whooshing sound of the printers and copiers. Normal sounds made by normal people who didn't have to wonder about their lives and didn't have to make choices about staying in one place, the only home they knew, or leaving for the home they were supposed to know and want. Kris… John… he wasn't even sure what to call himself anymore. He didn't know who he felt like anymore. The identity of John O'Connell had never fit quite as seamlessly as he thought an identity should have, but now having the identity of Kris Allen to slip into didn't fit any better. He'd thought knowing who he was would change things, but things hadn't gotten better they'd just gotten more complicated. Kris kept moving, past the truck and Adam's rented SUV, past the few SUV's that belonged to the department, and came to a stop at the small clearing on the other side of the parking lot. There were a few benches, a few picnic tables, and a tire swing that seemed oddly out of place.

Kris sat down and focused on breathing deeply. He tried to recall the exercise the therapist at the hospital had taught him. He focused on breathing and tried to imagine a warm white light seeping through his body, starting in his chest where it felt like he couldn't breathe and moving through his veins and arteries, tracing a way from his heart to his finger tips, calming him as it moved through him.

"Kristopher? Sweetheart, is that you?" A woman called to him as she crossed the parking lot, smartly dressed in jeans and a black top. She was looking at him with the kind of awe and wonder that told him she was from his old life in L.A. but he couldn't place her within the context of his life until she got closer. She had to be Adam's mother.

"Leila, right?" Kris asked warily.

Leila smiled and slowed her quick jog to a walk as she approached him, smoothing her hair away from her face and hitching her purse up her arm in one fluid motion. She and Adam shared the same natural grace of movement. "Are you saying that because you remember me or because you've talked to Adam?"

Kris couldn't help the smile, thin as it was. "You guys look alike."

"Oh honey," Leila sighed, tears brimming. "Can I hug you?" Kris couldn't resist, already feeling his heart rate slow.

"Oh, honey, you don't know how long I've wanted to do that. Let me look at you." She whispered as she stroked his hair, pushing him back after a tight squeeze so that she could look him up and down.

"What are you doing here?"

"Adam called me. Where is that boy? I'd think he wouldn't let you out of his sight."

Kris sucked in a deep breath and tried not to pull a face. How could he tell this warm, sweet woman he wasn't sure about going back to L.A. with her son?

"Uh, oh," Leila gave Kris an encouraging smile. "What did Adam do this time?"

Kris sighed and sat back down on the bench he'd collapsed onto when he'd first escaped the sheriff's station. Leila slipped her purse strap from her shoulder and took a seat next to Kris. She covered his hand with her own, giving his fingers a reassuring squeeze.

"He started talking about coming back to L.A."

"And that isn't what you want?"

"I don't know what I want. Should I? I mean am I making this more complicated than it really is?" Kris asked desperately. He just wanted an answer, a clear obvious answer.

"Kristopher, is there anything about this whole situation that isn't complicated?" Leila asked shaking her head. "You should feel what you feel. You have a life here, I presume. You're healthy and you look happy, if a little stressed, and all the sudden out of nowhere these people start dropping into your life. You don't have to know anything, or decide anything right now, Kris. This is your life, you have complete control over it."

"But I have a mother and father and a younger brother, right? And I have friends? Adam? What about all of them?"

Leila smiled sadly at Kris. Still putting others before himself; thinking about the feelings of people he barley knew. "Yes, you have a lot of people who love you, Kris. I know you're mother misses you terribly, but she's your mother Kristopher. She wants you to be happy, whether that's here in Ruby, in L.A., or back in Arkansas."

She could see the wheels in Kris's head turning, running through his possible options in his given situation. It had always been his way, and Leila was assured by the glimpse of the Kris she knew in this stranger.

"Let me ask you something, Kris. What do you want?"

Kris leaned back on the bench, slipping his hand from beneath Leila's to run them through his hair. "I don't know," he confessed. "I mean, I want to know who I was. I've wanted to know that since I woke up in the ICU and couldn't remember anything at all, but I don't know if I'm ready to just pick up and move to Los Angeles."

"Who said you have to leave Ruby?" Leila pressed. "There's no reason why you can't meet the people who are a part of your past then come back here. There's e-mail and instant messaging and Facebook. Adam's been teaching me about this Skype thing lately." She trailed off letting him think it through.

"What about, Adam. Can you tell me anything about when we were together?" Kris asked, curious to see what an outsider's view of their relationship was.

Leila thought for a moment before answering. "I think you two were very much in love, which surprised me." She patted Kris's hand before continuing. "Adam went through some really awful relationships when he was younger. He was looking for all the wrong things. When he met you I never thought anything would come of it. Then one day he brought you with him to a family picnic and I knew I'd be seeing a lot more of you." Kris sat absorbing that when she'd said.

"I've been dreaming about him for a long time now." Kris confessed quietly, unsure where he was going with this.

"Dreaming?" Leila prompted after a minute of silence.

"I started having these dreams when I got out of the hospital, back when the anxiety attacks were really bad, of this guy who made me feel really safe, really loved. I could never see his face though, but he has the same eyes as Adam. That's what got me through some really rough times." Leila smiled to herself, thinking of her own memories of Kris and Adam.

"I have to go to L.A., don't I?" Kris said suddenly.

Leila gave him a warm smile. "I think that will give you the most answers, yes." Kris sighed heavily, uncertainty pulling at him, as he wondered if he was about to make the biggest mistake of his life.

* * *

**Part Ten: Los Angeles, California**

Kris had known, in the abstract way that you can know something you haven't yet experienced, that going to L.A. wouldn't magically solve things. He knew that L.A. wasn't going to magically bring all of his memories back, or erase the fear and anxiety that he still experienced, though it was much less intense. Yet, he couldn't help the disappointment he often felt when he thought of the progress he _wasn't _making. When he and Adam had returned to L.A. they had been met by Kris's parents and his brother, Daniel. His mother had cried as she held him tightly, kissing his cheeks over and over while his father had pulled him into an equally tight embrace. Daniel's greeting had been no less warm and Kris's had felt a sense of familiarity with them right away. His greatest achievements in memory had happened while his family had been present.

He'd met with doctors in Los Angeles and had been scanned and rescanned several times at Adam's instance. The results had come back the same as when the tests had been performed in Ruby, but Kris figured it couldn't hurt to see if anything had changed in the time since his first brain scans. With the confirmation that it wasn't anything physical keeping Kris from his memories, his family had taken the suggestion of the doctors to heart and had started telling Kris all about the life he'd led before he was kidnapped. They told him about high school, the mission trips, playing music on Sunday for the congregation. Daniel told him about the bonfires they'd have in the summer, everyone from school meeting with the fixings for hot dogs and s'mores, Kris always with his guitar, playing requests but never his original material. They told him about leaving for college, about meeting Adam his senior year and deciding to move to L.A. with him. Adam began to contribute here, telling Kris about how they'd lived together in a horrible one bedroom apartment their first year in L.A., before Adam did American Idol and before Kris hooked up with Cale.

When the week had ended and he'd put his family on a plane back to Arkansas, Kris had a more cohesive view of the man who he'd been and had even come up with a few memories of his own to contribute to the stories everyone had told him, but each memory was like looking through a fogged up window, the images blurry and half realized. It was more progress than he'd made in Ruby, and Kris had to concede that L.A. had been a good idea, but it had been a week since his last memory, and Kris was feeling the strain of living with Adam alone. He couldn't deny that he got along great with Adam, they'd formed a fast friendship, but there was the constant imbalance of emotion. Kris felt _something_ more for Adam, but he couldn't put a name to what it was, and it certainly wasn't the all consuming love everyone told him he'd shared with Adam before the "incident," as he thought of it. It left Kris feeling as though he was disappointing Adam as well, and part of him feared that he wouldn't ever love Adam the way Adam so obviously loved him.

The return of his nightmares hadn't really helped the transition from Ruby to L.A. either. While he still had nightmares once a week or more in Ruby, they were nearly a nightly occurrence in Los Angeles. In addition to meeting with the doctors in L.A. Kris met with the D.A. and the detectives working his case. He had told them everything he could remember, which wasn't much, and had been able to fill in a few holes here and there. The point of contention between Kris and everyone else, or so it seemed, was that Kris was certain there had been two men involved in his kidnapping. One of his clearest memories was of four sets of hands manipulating his body, moving him from the van to the ground. He could still hear the voices of two men in his nightmares, debating what was the best way to dispose of his body after they'd beaten him. Everyone was willing to believe they had their man in jail, all that was left to do was amend the charges and go through the formality of a trial, but Kris knew better. He knew the second guy was still out there and it was driving him crazy, slowly but surely.

Kris shuddered as he made his way to the kitchen of the apartment, the feeling of those hands and the sound of those voices fresh in his mind. He'd just turned the light on when he heard Adam padding down the stairs, his bare feet making nearly no noise. Kris sighed again. His nightmares weren't exactly quiet affairs and while he tried not to wake Adam he was usually unsuccessful. Adam appeared in the kitchen a moment later, basketball shorts slung low on his hips, undershirt rucked up as he scratched his stomach through a large yawn.

"Hey," Kris said softly, pulling down a second mug. Tea for Adam and coffee for Kris.

"Hey." Adam responded, collapsing into one of the high chairs at the island. "Nightmare?" Kris nodded as he bustled about the kitchen. If he made eye contact with Adam, Adam would know that it was a bad one, not just one of the usual ones.

"Hey," Adam stopped Kris with a hand on his wrist. "How bad was it, Kristopher?"

"Not the worst, not the best. It's like all the others, I can't really remember what happened but I wake up terrified." Kris confessed. He looked down and noticed that Adam's hand had slipped down from this wrist to his hand, rubbing his thumb soothingly over the back of his hand. It felt nice, natural, and was more soothing than Kris thought it would have been. Some part of him recognized Adam, even if it wasn't the dominant part of him.

"The one where they're laughing?" Adam asked, familiar with the variations of Kris's nightmares.

Kris shook his head, "No, the one where I can feel them stabbing me."

Adam winced. It wasn't the worst Kris had, but it was up there. They both knew Kris wasn't going to be able to get back to sleep anytime soon. Kris caught sight of the calendar on the side of the refrigerator, the one Adam had put up when Kris had moved back into the house to help him keep track of Adam's chaotic schedule and to help Kris keep track of his own appointments, something his sometimes spotty short term memory benefitted greatly from. Today was the fifteenth, Adam had a photoshoot at seven, four hours from now, and there was no way he would leave Kris alone after a nightmare, something Kris needed but hated to admit to.

"Adam," he tried though he already knew what Adam was going to say. "You should really try to get back to sleep. Your shoot with GQ is in just a couple of hours."

Adam shoot his head before taking another sip of tea. "No, I'm okay. The next _True Blood_ disc came from Netflix this afternoon. Let's put that in." Adam was already moving to the living room and the largest entertainment system that Kris had ever seen. Though Adam had never said anything about it, Kris knew that he'd joined Netflix after the first week when Kris had woken up every night from his worst nightmares. They'd made it through the whole first season of _True Blood_ in five days. The second season was taking them a bit longer, but Kris wasn't really sleeping that much better if the bags under his eyes were any indication. Kris settled in on the plush couch next to Adam, close enough to feel the warmth of his skin through their clothes. Adam flopped over immediately, stuffing a pillow between his head and Kris's legs. It had taking a little effort on Kris's part to adjust, or readjust as it were, to Adam's openness with affection and touch. The O'Connell's had been affectionate, but not affectionate in the way that Adam was.

"Want to come to the shoot tomorrow?" Adam offered through a yawn as the opening music sounded from the TV.

"Sure," Kris gave into the urge to run his fingers through Adam's hair. He liked it the best like this, free of product and sticking up in all directions. Adam hummed in contentment, eyes closing sleepily. Kris watched him try to fight it, but the pull was to heavy and he was asleep a minute later. Kris knew he'd be upset in the morning that he hadn't stayed awake to keep him company, but he needed the sleep. If the sleepless nights were taking their toll on Kris he couldn't imagine what they were doing to Adam. He'd overheard a call between Adam and Leila earlier in the week that had confirmed his suspicions that Adam was taking everything a lot harder than he let on.

They'd talked about Kris staying in the guest room, how there were no plans to change that, how Kris's nightmares weren't really getting better, how Adam wished that he could just hold Kris when he woke screaming, how he just wanted to help Kris but he didn't know how. It had hit Kris low in his gut when Adam had told Leila tearfully that he just missed _Kris._ Kris didn't know how to tell him that he missed Kris too.

* * *

**Part Eleven Los Angeles, California**

Seven o'clock came earlier than Adam would have liked. An early bird he was not, even under the best of circumstances, let alone a night spent asleep on the couch after one of Kris's nightmares. Adam wished Kris would just move back into their master bedroom. Having him just down the hall was better but every night that Adam faced the empty half of their California King another little piece of his heart was chipped away. He had gotten Kris back, but not really, and the fear preyed on him everyday that maybe he wouldn't. Maybe every day for the rest of his life he'd be looking at that empty half of bed. Maybe he was just going to have to accept this version of Kris. Kristopher Allen, 2.0. Adam tried to shake off the negative attitude that was threatening to pull him down. It wouldn't do Kris any good and it certainly wouldn't do him any good at this photoshoot, that was for damn sure.

Kris was quiet on the drive over, the bags under his eyes looking more and more like black eyes. He'd woken Adam up with a steaming travel mug full of tea, stroking his hand through Adam's hair gently as he called his name. His Kris would have slowly trailed his fingers down Adam's chest until he'd woken up another part of Adam's anatomy. _His _Kris. Jesus he really needed to stop doing that.

"So, I was thinking after the photoshoot is over we should go to Phoebe's for lunch. I could go for their salsa." Adam suggested as he climbed from the car. He'd considered calling a car, but Kris always made a vaguely uncomfortable looking face when they took a car somewhere. Adam figured that the stabbing nightmare was as good an excuse as any to drive, even if did hate the traffic.

"Sure," Kris agreed distractedly. He was studying the building, eyes squinted against the early morning sun. Adam waited him out, sure that Kris would tell him what he was thinking if he was given enough time. "You did a photoshoot here at Christmas?"

Adam beamed. That was the first time Adam he and Kris had kissed publically. "Yeah," Adam confirmed. "I did a shoot for People that Christmas. It was right after my first album cam out. You came with me."

"There was fake snow. We laughed about the Santa hat you wore. I offered to paint a menorah on it?" Kris asked, remembering the way his stomach had ached from laughter. Adam nodded, waiting to see what else Kris remembered about that day. "You kissed me in front of the cameraman. When he took a break to get more film for his camera I went to straighten your hat. I got that fake snow on my face and you were brushing it off my face. I thought you were just going to straighten me out, but then you kissed me."

"He caught the whole thing on his new roll. Kerry and Audrey were freaking out. They made People promise not to use the shots. The photographer sent them to us for Christmas." Kris nodded, a smile lighting up his face.

"Can you show them to me later?" Adam nodded, reaching out a hand for Kris to take. Without a thought Kris slipped his hand into Adam's as they headed into the building.

The photoshoot wasn't going well. Kris wasn't extremely familiar with the process, maybe once upon a time he'd been, but he could understand body language enough to know that no one involved with the production was really happy. Kris wasn't sure where things had started to go wrong. Adam had been in great spirits when he'd gone into hair and makeup, smiling and charming everyone he came into contact with. By the time he'd reemerged the smile had dimmed a little. Now, half an hour into the hour and half block of time they'd scheduled Adam looked like he was ready to strangle both the photographer and anyone else who got too close. Kris looked over to Audrey, hoping Adam's publicist would be able to explain what had happened, but she just shrugged her shoulders, clearly at a loss. Kris did his best to catch Adam's eye but it wasn't working.

Kris's own anxiety level was quickly on the rise. The ebb and flow of bodies in and out of the room they were taking the photographs was making him jumpy. In Ruby crowds hadn't bothered Kris. Maybe it was because the biggest crowd in Ruby was twenty or so cars gathered around the local watering hole, the Ruby Tavern, on a Friday night. Crowds In L.A. felt like suffocating to Kris. Crowds in L.A. meant a lot of people Kris didn't know touching him, something Kris hated now. The feeling of foreign hands calling to mind memories of hands pulling him from the back of a van and leaving him alongside a road to die. Kris wanted to be involved in Adam's life, wanted to see Adam at work, to watch all that grace and personality in motion, but he was reaching the end of his limit. He'd moved to the very back wall, where he should have been out of the way; the lighting guys had bumped him, as had the producers, and a dozen or more assistants. Audrey had come by earlier to offer him a cup of coffee or tea, using a gentle tone that made Kris feel as if he were an out of control wild animal. He'd declined and slunk further down in his seat, leaning to the left so he could still keep his eyes on Adam. Add to the anxiety the usual headache that came with recalling his memories and Kris didn't feel like it was a stretch to say that he was miserable. He wished he'd thought to bring his guitar with him.

His guitar, and discovering that in losing his memories he hadn't lost the ability or desire to play, had been one of his greatest sources of comfort throughout the whole ordeal. There was a peace that Kris found in sitting down, just him and those eight strings, that he hadn't been able to find in anything or anyone else. Being around Adam was the next best thing. When the headaches set in from the memories if he couldn't sleep through it, his guitar was the next best thing. A few soft chords and he would feel the tension slowly draining from his head out through his fingertips.

"Kris?" Audrey said softly, appearing out of thin air. Kris tried not to flinch but he could tell by the way her eyes softened that he hadn't done so great of a job. "Adam told me you might need these today." He looked down to the hand she was holding out to him. Three little brown pills were waiting, a glass of orange juice in her other hand. Kris accepted the pills gratefully and downed all three with one large gulp of juice. Audrey smiled gently before disappearing back into the chaos of the photoshoot. Kris returned his attention to Adam, catching the way his jaw tightened at something the photographer suggested. With his attention caught up in what Adam was doing Kris didn't see the assistant who came up on his left. The yelp that he let out was completely involuntary and attention grabbing. Kris didn't stick around for everyone to ask him if he was okay, he took off heading in the direction he thought was the green room.

"Kris!" A voice called from behind him. Kris didn't stop. He just needed to get to the green room, get there and calm down a little. If he could just get his anxiety under control- his jack-rabbiting thoughts came screeching to a halt as strong arms wrapped around him from behind, turning him at the same time so that his cheek ended up pressed against a strong chest, a familiar smelling chest.

"Hey, hey, hey. It's okay, Kris. It's okay, you're okay." Adam reassured, holding onto Kris tightly. Kris inhaled deeply, the familiar smell calling to mind snow and the scent of pine trees. The feeling of Adam's arms so much like the dreams Kris had experienced in Ruby. Kris tried to focus on the here and now. He couldn't get any kind of control if he was being bombarded with flashes of the past. As desperately as he wanted those flashes he wanted control more than that right now. Adam tightened his hold on Kris, wishing he could steady the shaking that had overtaken him. It was terrifying Adam. He was talking to Kris but Kris wasn't responding, Adam wasn't even sure that he was hearing what Adam was saying. He was holding Adam just as tightly which Adam took as a good sign. The only good sign he could see in all this.

"Kris?" Adam tried again. "Talk to me, Kristopher. Are you okay?"

"I don't think so. I don't know what's happening. I can't get my heart to stop racing." Kris whispered raggedly from where he still had his face pressed against Adam's chest.

Adam slipped a hand into Kris's hair, gently running his fingers through it, massaging the corded muscles in Kris's neck. He looked around the hallway, catching Audrey's eye. "Okay, we're getting out of here. Give me five minutes and then we're on our way home."

"Adam," Kris protested. "You can't just leave your own photoshoot."

"Fuck the photoshoot, Kristopher." Adam said tersely. With one arm wrapped tightly around Kris's shoulders he began guiding him back to hair and makeup. "The photographer was an asshole. Audrey will take care of things. We just need to get home."

"I'm sorry, Adam. I'm so sorry." Adam's heart clenched at how miserable Kris sounded.

"I'm sorry too. I should have known that things would be really chaotic down here. It's more people than you're used to and with the headache. I'm sorry. I didn't think."

"You shouldn't have to!" Kris fumed. "I should be able to handle being in a room full of people. I should be able to make it through a day out in public without having a panic attack!"

"Hey, it's okay." Adam assured squeezing Kris's shoulder. It wasn't though, they both knew that.

* * *

**Part Twelve: Kris and Adam**

Kris made it as far as the couch when they got home. He collapsed, tugging a pillow over his face. He'd calmed down some in the car, Adam talking to him about inane subjects before skipping over to sing along with a line or two from the radio. It was soothing in the way that it was pure Adam, though Kris wasn't sure where that thought had come from, but he couldn't deny that it was true. Adam, as wound up as he could get, could be incredibly steadying when Kris needed it. He had evidence of that from the past few weeks, but he knew the thought had stemmed from a deeper rooted knowledge. It wasn't a memory, but it was something.

Kris wasn't sure how long he dozed. Adam had roused him to get more medication down and then had left him to sleep. He'd been vaguely aware of Adam coming back and running his hands through Kris's hair, gently massaging his temples. When he woke he was covered in a blanket and the smell of tomato sauce and garlic was making his stomach growl. Adam was standing at the stove, hips swaying to Lady GaGa, turned down low in deference to Kris's headache, stirring the sauce to the beat of the song. Kris stayed in the doorway for a moment, watching Adam dance and sing and cook. He looked beautiful, if tired, his jeans low on his hips, black t-shirt with some kind of silver design climbing from the hem on the left side towards his chest. He'd kicked his boots off just inside the door but had kept his black socks. There was still a chill in the air, spring not quite here yet. Kris felt something low in his belly stir. _Desire._ He realized somewhat abruptly. It felt inevitable, his budding feelings for Adam, feelings he was still only half aware of. It was nice, if a little frightening.

"Hey, dinner's almost ready." Adam told him when he caught sight of Kris in the doorway.

"What can I do?"

Adam looked around the kitchen as he deftly moved pots from one burner to another. "Hmm, do you want to eat at the table?" Adam didn't let him answer before continuing. "Let's eat at the table. Will you set it?" Kris laughed and agreed. They moved together through the kitchen, easily moving around each other to lay the food out and get the table set. The ease and familiarity warming Adam's heart. The Kris he'd lost was in there somewhere. He had proof of it everywhere he looked.

They were almost finished with dinner when Adam worked up enough nerve to pitch his idea to Kris. "I think we should get out of town for a few days."

Kris looked up from where he'd been about to take a hefty bite of spaghetti. "Uh, where do you want to go?"

"We have this place," Adam explained. "This cabin up in Eureka. We bought it a couple of years ago, put a studio in last year so I can work from there. It's quiet, out of the way. It's a lot like Ruby."

"I need to learn how to live here, Adam. Running away isn't going to fix anything."

"No," Adam agreed. "It isn't going to fix things, but you're wound really tight right now Kris. I'm really scared that the next time someone stops you on the street to ask for directions that it's going to send you over the edge." Adam ran his fingers through his hair, washed clean of the product they'd used on it for the phtotoshoot. "Let's just get away for a few days. Relax."

"I'd relax if they cold find the second guy." Kris grumbled under his breath as he carried his dishes to the sink.

"Well, they might never find him, Kris!" Adam exploded in frustration. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I didn't mean that."

"No, you're right." Kris sighed heavily, turning from the sink to face Adam. "You're right. I keep thinking that if they find him everything will be okay. I won't worry about strangers coming up to talk to me or crowds. I'll get my memories back." Kris shook his head in frustration.

"Please, Kris, let's just get out of here for a few days." Adam pleaded. "Let's just go relax a little, unwind."

"Okay, let's go."

**Part Thirteen: Eureka, California**

The house in Eureka was nothing like what Kris was expecting. The house in L.A. was modern, sleek lines and glass on the outside, modern but cozy on the inside. The house in Eureka really was a cabin, logs and all. The inside was done in browns and greens with plush leather sofas and thick blankets over the back of every couch and chair to fight of the chill of the Northern California air. With spring right around the corner the cold was still more biting than refreshing. Kris opened the passenger door and looked over at Adam. He'd fallen asleep an hour into the drive, confident that Kris could follow the GPS to get them there. _I could have gotten us here without it._ Kris realized as he got closer to the cabin and further away from the city that he knew where he was going. The roads were familiar to him and more than once he could call to mind the name of a street and what the intersection would look like before he got there. The last half hour of the drive he'd been fighting off the familiar headache that had accompanied the memories he had experienced during the drive.

He'd been bombarded with memories along the drive. He could remember Adam blindfolding him on the dive up just after they'd bought the house, the actual purchase a surprise for Kris's birthday. He'd led Kris right up to the front door where he'd placed at least ten bows all over the door. Kris remembered curling up with Adam under one of the thick quilts on the floor, fire roaring, after they'd exchanged Christmas gifts. He remembered kissing Adam as snow drifted down to settle on their shoulders one of the first times they'd gone to the cabin. He remembered bring Cale and Daniel up to the mountain to go fishing one weekend, none of them catching anything but all of them getting seriously sunburned as they worked their way through a couple of six packs. It was like each mile of the trip stripped away a little more of the man he'd become after the incident. It was like a weight slowly lifting off his shoulders.

Kris moved slowly to the front door, knowing their would be a key above the door on the right side of the door frame, just the way he knew what the layout would be of the cabin. Easing the door open Kris took a moment to survey the room, satisfied to see that he was right about the layout and the furniture. He went back to the car, carrying his bag and Adam's into the house and right up to the master bedroom, not concerned with the room arrangements just yet. He'd spent the part of his drive that wasn't occupied by memories thinking about his relationship with Adam and how he thought he might be ready to move forward with him, their current status not enough for Kris anymore. That afternoon in the studio all he'd wanted was for Adam to kiss him- to lean forward that last inch or so and press his lips against Kris. HE knew Adam would never make the first move, too afraid that he'd irreparably damage Kris's already fragile state. It would be up to Kris to get them moving in the right direction.

"Hey, why didn't you wake me?" Adam mumbled though a yawn as he made his way up to the porch to where Kris was. Kris stepped forward, pressing his head to Adam's chest, knowing Adam would reach up to rub his shoulders and would ease the knots in his back and neck out with carefully placed touches.

Adam didn't disappoint. "Hey, what's this?" He squeezed Kris's shoulder's tightly drawing a groan from Kris. "Why didn't you wake me up when you started to get the headache?"

"You needed the sleep." Kris sighed, pleasure rippling through him as Adam worked on the knots in Kris's neck.

"Yeah, well, you didn't need the headache. Come on, let's get you inside and get some painkillers in you. I'll make dinner while you rest." Adam insisted, turning Kris while still rubbing his shoulders. Within five minutes he had Kris laid out on the couch, pills in one hand, glass of milk in the other hand. Kris leaned back into the plush cushions, keeping Adam's hand trapped in his own.

"Stay, please?" He asked, sliding over to make room for Adam on the sofa. He caught the look of uncertainty on Adam's face, but it was only there for a moment before Adam slid on to the couch, wrapping his arms around Kris tightly. Kris nuzzled into the hollow of Adam's throat, placing a light kiss there in thanks before drifting quickly off to sleep.

_Kris was thirteen, chasing after Natalie Lawson. Frog in one hand, cup of lemonade in the other as their parents sat under the shade of the pecan trees laughing and talking, the smell of barbeque thick in the humid Arkansas air._

_ Kris was eighteen, walking across the stage, graduation robe swishing against his dress slacks. He could hear Daniel's whoops from the back of the auditorium and his mother's wolf whistle, such a loud noise for such a small woman._

_ Kris was nineteen, guitar in hand, playing for the guys on his floor, Cale using a beer can full of the pull tabs as a tambourine._

_ Kris was twenty-one, shaking Adam's hand for the first time, talking about music for hours and hours. _

_ Kris was twenty-three kissing Adam for the first time on the porch of his parent's house in Arkansas the day he came out to his family._

_ Kris was twenty-three, telling Adam he loved him for the first time on the porch of the cabin, pulling him down for a heated kiss so full of passion and love._

Kris thought he could hear a voice calling to him, trying to work past the fog of pain clouding his head. He remembered taking some of his prescription strength pain meds before settling down on the couch with Adam for a nap, but he remembered being in high school and college too. It was too confusing, the jumble of memories flying through his brain faster than any thought he'd ever had. Maybe it wouldn't hurt so much if he could just get them to slow down, to form an individual image before moving onto the next set of pictures. It was exhausting.

"Kris! Kristopher!" The voice sounded like Adam and he sounded scared- so, so scared.

_"Kris! No!" He could hear Adam shouting for him but there was nothing he could do. There were hands on him, rough and demanding. Pushing him into the back of a van, pressing a cloth to his mouth, drowning everything out. Then there was pain, kicks and punches and a knife that slipped through his skin like it was nothing- like it was no thicker than a sheet of paper. There were voices talking about where to leave him, what to do with the body. Maybe they should dig a shallow grave- maybe it would be alright to just leave them to the wild animals. He was filled with fear but powerless to do anything to help himself. He wished for Adam's hands and Adam's sweet voice- the gentleness and love. He wished he were already dead so the pain would just _stop._ He wished for a million things, but nothing changed. And then he was flying through the air, landing hard on the ground. He rolled over, eyes peeling open to get one last glance at the stars before he died- one last moment of peace at the end._

Kris shot awake, gasping for air. The pain in his head nothing compared to the remembered pain of the stab to his side. Fresh enough feeling that Kris drew a hand up to check and see if he was, in fact, bleeding. His progress was hampered by the tight hold Adam had on him.

"Jesus, Kristopher, what happened to you?" Adam asked, voice shaking.

Kris cleared his throat. "I don't know. I remember things, a bunch of things. I remember kissing you on the porch in Arkansas and telling you I love you and Daniel when he was little and Cale. There's too much, Adam. There's just too much _stuff!_" Kris moaned, pressing his face into Adam's shoulder, wishing he could drive the pain away by burying himself in Adam.

"Hey, it's okay. You're remembering, Kris!" He whispered excitedly. He took Kris's face in his larger palms, tilting Kris's head up to his. "You're remembering," he said as he pressed a kiss to Kris's lips. "You're remembering," another kiss to his neck. "You're remembering," a kiss to his nose. "You're remembering me," his last whispered roughly as he pressed his lips to Kris's passionately, feeling Kris respond. Feeling _his _Kris, the one made up of the past the present and the future, match him kiss for kiss, passion for passion. Finally seeing a Kris that loved him without reservation or question in his eyes. Finally feeling the love he'd been missing for so long.

* * *

**Epilogue: One year later**

Kris still forgets things sometimes, or finds a hole in his memories. He used to find the experience terrifying, sure that it was a sign that he was beginning to lose all the memories he'd gained. Birthdays, anniversaries, mile markers in his career or in Adam's don't always stick, and they've come to accept that there are things Kris is never going to get back. When someone starts telling a story they think Kris will remember sometimes it jogs something and he can get a memory like those first few, foggy and indistinct. Sometimes he draws a complete blank. Every now and then something will jog his memory and Kris will get a faraway look in his eyes, as if he's seeing something no one else is. Adam has learned to let him breathe through it and then pass him the bottle of Advil that one of them always has with them to alleviate the headaches that typically follow, but the headaches are starting to ease and the sharp, clear memories are coming less and less.

They spend more time in Eureka now, going up every other weekend, spending nearly every holiday there if they aren't spending time with their families. They travel to Ruby twice a year and the O'Connell's come out to visit every chance they get. There are days when Kris wake so grateful for the strange detour his life took that it brought him such amazing people who love him so purely. His life is so full, even with all the pieces that are missing. It's more than he could have ever hoped for when he'd first woken up in the hospital room so long ago. The trial is still looming, the second kidnapper finally located after his partner gave him up for a deal. Kris tries not to think about it, but there are days where it's the only thing that Adam can think of. It's a black cloud hovering over their relationship and Adam just wants to be done with it. Kris still has nightmares, still wakes shaking and unable to breathe, but the nightmares are fading like all the other bad memories and Kris hopes that one day they'll be just a part of the story, a quick little footnote on the way to the happily ever after.

His extended family, Adam's relatives, Kris's relatives, and the O'Connell's meet every year on Kris's birthday. A celebration of life for all of them. This year Kris caught his mother studying his interactions with Adam, more focused on Adam than Kris.

"What is it, Mama?" he asked, covering her hand with his own.

She gave him a soft smile. "It's just funny that's all."

"What's funny?" Adam asked, catching the tail end of the conversation.

"Well, Adam, you went to Nevada to say goodbye to Kristopher. What were the odds that you'd find him there?" She explained, giving them both a kiss on the cheek as she stood to get Kris's birthday cake from the kitchen.

Adam met Kris's gaze then, eyes a little teary. Kris leaned forward, capturing Adam's lips in a gentle kiss, garnering a little cheer from Katy and Daniel who had been fast friends from their first meeting. The couple broke apart with a grin, Adam stealing one last quick peck.

"It wouldn't have been a happily ever after if you hadn't found me." Kris said earning a laugh from Adam.

"So, we're living a fairytale then?" He beamed.

Kris shrugged leaning in for another quick kiss. "I don't know, maybe we are. It certainly feel like it though doesn't it?"

"Yeah," Adam agreed. "I guess we are."


End file.
